A Trophy Father's Trophy Son
by AllTheRage13
Summary: "We did not change as we grew older; We just became more clearly ourselves."- Lynn Hall. Kyman. Yaoi. Don't like, then don't read. Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

I like to attempt to reason my Father's actions, but I end up just getting more pissed off thinking about it because when I do I realize- There's no reasoning to his actions what-so-ever.

My Father has always appeared to be a good, trustworthy lawyer. Someone you could come to for Legal help and if you were short on money and couldn't pay him the full amount well that was okay, he would help you anyways. Before everything went down, I could reason why he spent so little time with the family. I mean he worked six to seven days a week, around fourteen hours a day. Saturday nights he went out with his Co-workers which was also reasonable, I mean I went to my friends on the weekends, why shouldn't my father be allowed a break from paperwork and my Mother? Don't get me wrong I love my mother, but she can be more than a bit overbearing. Sundays he slept, or read the Sunday paper and watched Cnn with my brother. Sundays were the only nights we ever ate dinner all together, and as I got older I could feel the tension between my Mother and Father.

So when my Father filed for divorce, it didn't really shock me.

My Mother tried everything, and when I say everything I mean she even forced him to go to a meeting with the local Catholic priest after the meeting with the Rabbi didn't go well. My Mother just couldn't understand why he didn't want to be with her anymore, and to tell you the honest truth neither could I. My Mother is overbearing, nagging, and controlling but that never stopped him from loving her before. They also had two kids together. . . You'd think if he was unhappy he would've spoke up about it before they stopped using a condom, and he definitely didn't have to fill out those adoption papers. My mother was so confused and she kept looking for reasons to blame for the destruction of her marriage, that is, until he ended up fessing up what he's was actually doing all those Saturday nights.

That is when our household entered World War Three.

People have always told me my temper was bad. I would reply with, ' You should meet my mother, her tempers so big it's got it owns zip-code.' They would laugh but. . . In reality it was a fact. Every day I would come home and have to dodge under dish plates and vases to get a water bottle. It was annoying, and there were days where I just contemplated moving into my best friend's house, but I would never just ditch my little brother and leave him alone in the middle of chaos. So I sucked it up, and even though there were numerous nights where I would kick at my bed with tears in my eyes, all because I was extremely exhausted but not getting enough sleep from the constant bitching in the hall, I knew it was worth it when my little brother would come into my room crying because of the excess noise. He needed someone, and since everybody else was too busy, I would be there for him. But eventually, my Mother realized her 'perfect' Marriage could never be rekindled.

Now, our house is currently going through the Great Depression.

My mother simply lies in her bed, all- the- god- damn- day. She doesn't eat, she doesn't talk, she doesn't drink, fuck half the time she isn't even sleeping in her bed; she's just lying there! Staring at the fucking dots on the ceiling in the dark! Since I'm oldest I've been the one helping around the house the most. We communicate through notes. I leave her a note on her door saying we need groceries, she leaves me fifty dollars on the kitchen table, I slip the mail under her bedroom door and the next day she has the bills that need to be sent out in a neat little pile on the kitchen table. It's a good system and all, but I'd like to have more free time to myself to oh you know, socialize. Also, the fact that my Mother hasn't talked to me for almost four months kind of sucks ass too. My father still yells at her, telling her to get up and so he can settle this shit and get out of here, but it falls on death ears.

As if I don't have enough to deal with in my family life, there are also many revelations I've been making about myself, revelations that disgust me for numerous reasons. You see I've spent many a nights thinking of the crazy adventures my friends and I went on, actually one in particular. When my family moved to San Francisco all that time ago- who saved us from the smug storm? The curiosity drove me wild until I decided to find out. I went to each one of my classmates In South Park; since it's obvious it had to be one of them. Going down the list, I went from Stan to Kenny, and so on until I got to Butters. When he said he knew who it was- but promised to take the name to the grave I bullshitted him into believing I knew who saved me, but I simply wanted to get the whole story and 'the person' wouldn't tell me it.

The minute he said the fatass's name my whole brain fucking blew up.

I spent more numerous nights thinking and theorizing why exactly Eric fucking Cartman saved not just me, but my whole family's life, and I've come to a conclusion. He cared about my well-being! Confusion was not even the word for how I felt about the fatass; it changed my whole view on him. Eric Cartman, having some type of morals to actually save me! The bigoted, racist, greedy, self-centered, fatass! Impossible. But then I realized something else. Maybe there's more to Cartman then I know. . . Maybe he's actually human, and I've just overexagerated his evil. So I went to our most recent yearbook and I looked up his name to see his picture, to see if there really was some type of good in his eyes. I stared at the picture for hours, and when I realized what I was thinking I cut out the picture. Actually I cut out the picture, put it through the shredder and burned the scraps, and then I slapped myself in the face trying to convince myself that the revelation wasn't real.

I am Kyle Broflovski, almost seventeen years old, my parents are almost divorced. My Father is not the good guy I thought he was, my Mother is having an emotional breakdown and my brother only trust me to make his PB&J's correctly. I hated my archenemy Eric T. Cartman, until I looked into that fat bastard's eyes and realize that I don't find him disgusting at all.

I actually find him quite sexy.

* * *

><p>~Author's Note~<p>

'Ello good mates! If you're reading this then you've apparently have taken the time out of your day to read the prologue, and I thank you for that! If you like this story, I would appreciate if you would leave a comment, subscribe, add to favorite, etc. If you don't like this story- then I'd appreciate if you did not flame and just simply let it be. :)

The first couple chapters are prewritten, which means all I have to do before I post a chapter is simply reread for any grammical errors or last minute changes. Hopefully this will work better for me, so I have more time to write later chapters. I do hope you continue reading this story- I think it turned out quite well. I didn't want to spoil the pairing in the description- although you can probably guess by now what the pairing will be. ; ) Unlike my first story ( on Hiatus) I preplanned this one out and organized- something I should've done with the first. Anyways, thank you for reading! Remember, Constructive Critiscm is extremely appreciated. :3

XoXo

~Madi


	2. Chapter 2

My alarm clock wakes me up, blaring beeps until I start my daily routine of throwing it across my room to shut it up. My poor alarm clock has taken a lot of beatings; I wonder sometimes how the fuck it's still functional. Maybe when they were designing them to be as annoying and loud as possible they also decided to make them indestructible. Throwing the comforter back over my head I decided that I still want to catch up on the lack of sleep I did not get during World War Three. Under the covers is dark and warm, and it doesn't take long for me to doze back off into semi- consciousness, that is until a hard lump lands directly onto my ribs. My body convulses awake as my head pops out to see what the hell is on me.

"Kyle! Time to go to school! It's Friday! Friday! Gotta get down on Friday!" Ike, my fucking Canadian brother who can't sing for shit, howls at me. I don't know who showed him that fucking song- but that person needs to be beat.

"Dude, that song was funny when it came out at first like a year ago. Now it's just retarded."

"I don't care" He growls, "I actually like the song."

I shut my brother up by throwing a pillow at him, to which he happily returns to me and skips out of my room humming Rebecca Black. And to think** I'm** the gay one. Falling back onto my bed, I contemplate staying home and sleeping. Remembering that I have a Trigometry test today I run my hand through my curls and sigh. Glancing over towards my closet I hesitantly get up and drag my body towards it, then go to the bathroom; where I get changed and ready. A quick glance in the mirror tells me that the orange converses do not match with the black skinny jeans or Moss collared shirt- fuck it, I don't have anyone I need to impress.

I sprint downstairs and start Ike's lunch. A Peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into a perfect square and then divided into four triangles. Then four cherry tomatoes and eight baby carrots as one side, Four strawberries which when all the numbers are added together equal a perfect twenty. I swear to God the kid has OCD or some shit. Not to mention everything has to be in a reusable packaging since he refuses to take part in 'destroying our Earth'. I knew when Mr. Hipper, the environmental studies teacher, showed him that godamn Al gore documentary, things would all go downhill. Putting the lunch on the table I grab the sixty dollars my Mother gave me to buy groceries then habitually glance at the clock. Fuck, I'm going to be late. Skimming through the closet closet I find the green newsboy hat I've been looking for. I don't wear my ushanka much anymore. It's been wore down to practically rags. Uttering a goodbye to Ike I run out of the door and head to the bus stop. If I miss the bus I'm screwed, luckily it's not that far from my home.

Running up to bus stop panting Kenny greets me with a friendly wave. Waving back at Kenny, the boy with the best advice in town, I turn to my super best friend who merely grunts, mornings were never really his thing. He slapped me once when I attempted to wake him up after a long night of horror movies and pillow talk. Butter smiles brightly and I return it. Butters is a sweet kid, I don't understand why everybody is so annoyed by him. Yes, he can be a extremely naive and at times but he's sweet and one of those rare people who are truly happy inside and out for other people's happiness.

"Hiya Kyle! I don't mean to annoy you with questions and all but- Where's your backpack?" His question is so simple it makes me wonder why my brain didn't remind me.

My face drops and I openly scowl. Godammit! I was too worried about getting the grocery money and all that I forgot my fucking backpack! Stan pats my back apologetically, yet still says nothing. He really needs to start drinking coffee in the morning.

"Dude you're going to be late for the bus if you go back and get it." Kenny inquires. I nod in agreement, but sigh and turn around to walk back to my house anyways.

" Well jeez Kyle I'm sorry, I'd go get it for you but my Father would ground me again for being late, and I'm already grounded now for missing a problem on my Spanish test! Golly, you'd think after playing a meheecan all those years and such that I would of learned some Spanish." Smiling sincerely at Butters I shake my head. See, this is what I mean. How many friends would willing walk to your house and get your backpack for you, even if he ended up being late? Of course he's grounded though; his father is such a jerk-off. As he gets older his dad has gotten increasingly more anal.

"No way butters, it's cool. It's my own godamn fault for forgetting it. See ya' guys." Turning around swiftly, I begin walking back to my house. Walking will make me later- but I'm going to be late regardless so fuck it. Humming a tune (Foster the People- They been my default humming band recently) I slowly make my way towards the house. I should be mad- Mad at my mom for not caring (Or at least acting like she doesn't care and doing a really good job at it), mad at her for making me do the things her adult self should be doing. I guess I should be madder at a lot of things, and I guess I am. Maybe I should be expressing these emotions, but- I'm still extremely tired from World War Three to do that. There fighting limited my sleep to two hours tops a night. Even when they didn't fight- my mind got so used to not sleeping it wouldn't shut down or stay shut down for a long time. It sounds fucked up, but I'm kind of glad my mother got depressed and stopped the fight- at least I don't have to hear their pitching. And Ike rarely comes in my room now crying- nightmare or not. Still though, I am getting use to sleep, sleeping again. I've been sleeping for like 6 hours a night so it's much better now. Sort of.

Walking into my house I see Ike stare at me form the kitchen, his mouth full of food. He tries talking, but it just comes out like a mumbled bunch of words, chewed up toast spewing everywhere.

"Eww sick Ike, fucking swallow your food first." Sneering in overly-dramatic disgust I grab my backpack and began walking out.

"Du- our- goin- to- late." He finally swallows the rest of his toast and jumps up to follow me. Continuing to ignore him I walk down our drive way.

"Bye Kyle!" He yells happily, standing in the doorway. God he's so flamboyant it's laughable.

"Bye faggot!" I wave goodbye to him. He yells something inchoherentable again and I nod in agreement to whatever it is. Checking the time on my phone I realize that I will be at least twenty minutes late. Shit, of course I have the most Anal, Pmsing bitch in the planet my first period. It's not like we even do anything new in English anyways, I've memorized the definition of appositive phrases by now. Suddenly, a loud horn blares form right behind me. Jumping I swirl around to see where the noise came from and of course I see the one red truck I wanted to see least.

"Fucking fatass! You scared the shit out of me!" I kick the door with all my might as he rolls down his window, laughing.

"Pussy Jew! I thought you were a girl scout from far away- what's with the hat?"

"Oh, so that's how you manage to keep all that fat on? By jumping little girl scouts and taking all their cookies? Makes sense. "Growling I begin walking again- Please don't let him follow me. Apparently, God is ignoring my pleads, considering I hear the hum of the engine in the back of my head and turn back around to face the truck.

"Jew, you know the bus left, right?" He says mockingly. Glancing up at him, I glare openly towards him,

"Fuck off fatass, I'm not stupid." Trying to energize all my angers towards him I continue glaring. His eyes are smiling just as much as his mouth, knowing full well it pisses me off. His hair is tussled and unkempt, I wonder if he actually tried for the bedhead look or he just didn't feel like brushing it. Either way it's sexy as hell.

"Well Jew, you know I could give you a ride if you wanted." Cartman, I'd let you ride me anytime. God dammit! Why are all these cheesy lines running through my head constantly, I've been hanging out with Stan too much. He looks down at his hand- waiting for an answer. I bite my lip and contemplate the pro and cons. The Pro is that he could admit his feeling towards me and we could ditch school and do . . . things. The con is that he could be annoying fatass the whole way, and then hold it over my head that he did me a favor. And I need to return it- which will probably be something extremely humiliating, which is still totally okay with me.

The horn blares in my ear again, causing me to jump for the second time. Shaking away from my fantasy's I kick his tire and hop in the passenger seat.

"You're so fucking impatient, dickhole." I growl.

Cartman snorts, "Look who's talking Jew, you have the temper of a Pmsing sixteen year old."

"Mhm." Snuggling into the passenger seat, I am not going to fight back. Too tired and it's extremely fucking warm in his truck. It's weird saying this but, Thank god for Cartman. Closing my eyes I sigh and intake the smell of air heater and lavender air freshener. Cartman turns up the radio, and begins humming something. God, I'm so tired. . .

~~~~~ Like, Fifteen minutes later. ~~~~~~~

'-yle. Jew! Wake up, asshole!" Twirling awake form Cartman's obnoxious voice I growl angrily. he sounds so annoying after I just awoke form a peaceful sleep. Then again, everybody does.

"Mhm, go away fatass!" I attempt to snuggle back into my comfortable position, but a blast of wind sends my body into shock mode.

"Agh! What the fuck!" Did Cartman just drag me out of his car! That fucktard!

"You take too long Jew, plus I don't want you drooling on my seat all day." Smirking he gestures towards my lips. Huffing, I rub harshly at my lips. I do not drool! Do I . . .? We walk up to the front entrance just as firs bell rings; I turn towards Cartman, Might as well get it over with.

" Thank-"

"Yeah whatever Jew. Let's just say you, owe me." Hmm, how did I know he was going to say that? It's just so A-typical Cartman, being some egotistical douche who thinks he has done something so amazing for me. But in his eyes, I guess he has. I mean helping the Jew and growing up enough to not bother him the whole car ride! Crazy. Before I can think up some remark, he turns away and begins walking to his first period. German I think- Not that it really matters. Sighing, I turn and walk into Mrs. B's class. I'm not counting the fifteen minute nap as any extra sleep.

Wait a minute. . .

Why did he not wake me up? I know Cartman, and Cartman would have totally jumped on the chance to annoy me non-stop for fifteen minutes and me not being able to do nothing about it, yet he let me sleep? And drool all over his seat? It's just so unlike him, doing something kind like letting me sleep when he knows I'm tired. This is another one of those things, something I'm going to think about until it drives me nuts. Just like fucking San Francisco. Sighing, I turn my attention to Mrs. Bitch as she lectures about the importance of double spacing when righting an essay. Oh god, this is going to be a LONG day.

~~~~~~ At home, where Sleepy Monster Kyle is in his cave (Aka his bed) ~~~~~~

"Dude! Get your lazy ass up! We've got to get ready!" Stan yells, directly, into my ear. Got to love my best friend. Groaning in reply, I throw my cover back over my head. Ready for what?

"Seriously dude, you knew we were going to a party today. I told you a week in advance!"

Oh. . . . Yeah. Get ready for that.

"Mhm, I am ready." Snuggling into my blanket, we share our last precious moments together until it is ripped away from my body.

"Nooo! I said I was ready! Asshole!" Growling, I attempt to rip off my sheet and use that as a blanket, to no avail.

Stan laughs, "Yeah dude, you are not going in those clothes. Get your ass up, I swear you've gotten to be as lazy as Cartman!" Oh please! That asshole knows I hate it when he compares me to Cartman, and I so am not! He knows I've been in Track since seventh grade after I became too short for basketball.

"Fuck you I am not!" Spiking my pillow at him and failing miserably, he simply laughs at me. Dick.

"Hello! Finally you're up!" Wendy interrupts, appearing out of my closet. How creepy would that be if Stan wasn't here? Shuddering at the thought, I turn my attention back to what is going on.

"Stan, "Wendy pushes him toward the door, "get out, I have work to do." Stan turns to me and winks knowingly, and then walks out. What!

" Stan no! Why is Stan leaving, and what type of 'work' are you doing to me!" Wendy turns to me and I almost piss myself in fear. She's got that smile, the one she got when she sent that teacher to the sun. Don't get me wrong I love the girl but in all honesty, she scares me.

" Oh, you'll see Kyle, you will see." she grabs me by the ear and drags me into the closet, going on about how considering I'm gay I should have a better taste in clothing.

Dear God, please let me get through this. I promise I'll never try drugs, okay? Love, Kyle.

~~Author's Note. ~~

Oh wow, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed or added this story to their alerts. ^.^

Reviews, alerts, favorites makes me extremely encouraged, so keep them coming! The reason it took me awhile for a new update is because Chapter three got completely deleted, so before I posted this I wanted to start on chapter three. :3 This chapter feels a bit rushed to me, I don't know. . . Do you like it?

Anyways, it's Saturday, I mean Sunday. I have Winter formal middle school crap dance Friday. I'm Wore a dress, although I'm not one of those girls who are like, "OH NO NOT A DRESS NO NO NO NO!" Like really anti-girly stuff. I actually really like girly things, I am just not pretty enough to wear them, ahaha. But my crush saw me and laughed. Thanks dick, I hope you had fun doing dance clean-up with your mormon girlfriend.

Anyways, please review! No flames, Fire's only good if it's extremely cold outside and you're stuck inside the house in the dark while an alien is playing your zombie game you just bought, but then you should just hibernate until Spring in that case. Please, review. Construtive critisicm is encouraged. ^.^

XoXo

~Madi


	3. Chapter 3 at 3 in the morning

This party has got to be the most retarded thing I have ever been to. I hate to sound so negative, but for seriously, sleeping would have been more productive than this crap. Currently, it's ten and practically every freshman is passed out drunk, while all the upperclassmen have ran off to shave off their eyebrows, throw them in the pool, draw balls on their face in sharpie, etc. Stan went off with Wendy to God knows where. I'm almost glad; if I had to here another one of their cheesy lines towards each other I was going to puke completely sober.

Kenny fucked off to the kitchen claiming he was going to get me "Good and drunk." That is not going to happen. The one time I was even close to drunk was at my Aunt's wedding were I had some wine; I woke up the next morning with a hangover that lasted for nearly three days. So now I'm practically alone in this lounge room, other than Clyde and Craig, who are debating what fast food place is the best. Clyde has put all his hope in Taco bell, while Craig believes Jack in the Box's curly fries were made by the Gods themselves. Than Cartman is here too, sitting across from me staring at the wall in deep thought. His chocolate eyes sparkle with aggravation, like his thoughts are pissing him off. Trying to glance at him quickly, without him catching my attention has become one of my many talents.

Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, I snuggle deep into the cushions and sigh. Why am I such an obsessive human being! I stare and think about him twenty-four seven, it's retarded and I'm probably the only person in the World who thinks he can look way too sexy for his own good in casual blue jeans and a white tee! Dammit, dammit, dammit! Why, for once, can't my life just be normal! Yes, a lot of fucked up shit has happened in this damn town, but really? Maybe it would've of been better if I don't know, wasn't Jewish? Or he wasn't a Nazi who once tried to exterminate the Jews and at the same time saved my 'Jew' family form the smug storm and was more clear about my feeling for me so I knew how to react to what he did and-

Calm down Kyle. No need to go all Tweak.

Closing my eyes and snuggling in the couch deeper, I sigh for what must have been the millionth time today. This stupid Pre- Christmas Party is hellish- They could at least play good electro instead of this crappy amateur shit. It's giving me a headache. God, I don't even celebrate Christmas, why am I here? And why am I being such a fucking complainer? Jesus I'm glad these are just thoughts cause if my personality reflected these thoughts, nobody would want to hang around me. I need to stop being so uptight, I mean- Who the fuck is laying on me! Looking down I see a mixture of orange material and blonde hair- Oh it's just Ken. He really likes snuggling with me for some reason, he says my body isn't too hard likes Stan's or too fat like Cartman's. Just the fact that he's snuggled with Cartman sends off vibes of envy through my body. Though I've gotten pretty good at hiding my jealousy of other people touching Cartman- God, I seriously have obsession problems. But back to ken, why is he laying on me?

"Hey Ken, what's up?"

"Well Ky, you seemed to be here all alone and, "He winked saucily, "I was thinking maybe you wanted to party with me tonight?"

"Ken, ew."

He shakes his hands quickly and laughs, "No! Not like that, you pervert? Gosh, Kyle you and that dirty mind of yours! I mean party as in let lose. Come on, I'll show you the ropes of having a good time and change that persona of being a notorious party poop." He smiles at me hopefully, looking up at me like a little kid who just asked their parents for a new ps3. Hm, I could be the parents who quickly crushes the dreams of the little kid with a simple no and shrugs them away while telling them to finish their chore, or I could be the parents that where like fuck yeah! We have the money! Then they buy the video game set with a band game and become one of those families who have a family band named the "Hardcorerockerz" Or something cheesy like that spelled wrong to make it more awesome. Hm I thin-

"Please Kenneh; you're talking to the Jew. He has a bigger stick up his ass than Dr. Phil."

"Fuck you fatass! That wasn't even a good comeback dipshit!"

"Yeah, but it got to you silly little Jew, there's no way in hell you could ever get loose and just have fun."

Digging my nails into my skin, I fight back the urge to punch h the crap out of Cartman, I can't fucking believe that he would compare me to Dr. Phil! I am in no way an egotistical douche who gives crappy ass advice to people. Hm . . . . So Cartman thinks of me that way? Well, then we'll just have to prove him wrong.

Walking over to him, I bend down to get face to face with him. Smiling brightly I rip his ear over to me and whisper,

"I bet I can have more fun than you and 4.2 percent alcohol content drink."

Smirking, he stand sup abruptly and holds out his hand, waiting for me to shake it, "I bet I can have more fun that you and the one wine cooler you're going to drink tonight Jew."

Glaring, I shake his hand quickly. Then I turn around and head towards a very confused ken.

"Ken, "Smiling I hold out my hand to help him up from the couch, "let's party."

Ken cheers and does an overly dramatic dance, than tugs on my hand telling me how much fun I'm going to have. I'm not listening though. Turning my head back around I capture Cartman's eyes and smile a smile that can only mean one thing- it's on. Cartman tosses back his beer and smiles straight back at me in agreement.

"Let the games begin, and the odd be forever in your favor." He mouths. Oh my fucking god- Did he just quote The Hunger Games?

I think I'm in love.

~~~ Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy can't you see? Sometime you words just hypnotize me. And I just love your faggy ways, I guess that's why you're always getting laid. ~~~

To be honest to myself, I have no fucking idea how I got from point A to B to C.

All I know is that we were at point a; the kitchen. Ken was talking to me about the fundamentals of having a good, dirty time at a party, while mixing a disgusting amount of alcohol and other random kitchen items together in a big pitcher. It was really fucking scary. The concoction smelled like chocolate and fucking hard alcohol. Basically, Ken said if I drank it I was insured a good time at the party regardless of what I was doing. So I looked down at the brownish looking drink and then back up at ken and asked if it would give me a sugar coma. He laughed, said everything was sugar free and told me to toss it the fuck back. Smirking at Cartman I drank every last drop of that vile shit. Cartman, who had been taking shots of tequila throughout the slow process of me drinking what Ken, likes to call, 'Chocolate cum' Laughed hysterically at the faces I was making while drinking it. I laughed even harder at him snorting tequila up his nose- he always had a problem with that. We began talking and I actually think we were getting along, maybe it was just the alcohol kicking in, but Cartman wasn't being an anti-Semitic ass fuck- he was being funny. Everybody including Ken was bewildered, the looks on their faces were hysterical, and at least we thought so. "The Notorious Nazi and Jew getting along?"

I guess alcohol can do crazy things to a person

Speaking of what alcohol can do to a person, it brings me to Point B. Token is rich, we all know that- but he's that type of person who people need to KNOW he's rich. So whenever there is a party thrown at his house (Almost every other fucking weekend) he uses the karaoke room; yes they actually have their own karaoke room- stage and all. Any drunken retard that waits his or her turn is allowed to use it-I guess I was that drunken retard. It's okay though, my soulful rendition of Spice girls was sure to get people eyes watery . . . Whether it was because of my voice cracking on the high notes, or how they really didn't realize how gay I was until I had to drunkenly belch out Allspice's chorus in "Wannabe". After that we went to point b and a half, the Dance floor part room thingy place. Cartman and I had a dance-off, although I really don't remember how it ended. All I know is Ken grabbed me spun me around towards him, and led me to Point c.

Point c is currently where I am. We're playing festive Christmas game. Like festive Spin the bottle or as of currently, festive Truth or dare. I have no idea how it's festive but whatever, it's funny seeing people do things, or say things. Anything funny right now. It's kind of feels like I've lost that censor in my brain that stops me from doing shit without thinking about it. Whatever fuck it; I couldn't say anything that retarded. . . Right?

"Kyle truth or dare?" Bebe laughs and smiles at me awaiting an answer.

Um, "Dare?" No dammit, no. You never choose dare you dumbass, especially when Bebe is the one making it up. Looking at her she smiles wickedly and whispers something in Ken's ear, I swear those two blondes have some kind of evil conspiracy against me.

"Okay, Kyle. I dare you to wear nothing but your underwear for the rest of the game."

. . . Dammit. Why am I laughing this isn't funny yet I'm laughing- fuck alcohol. How do I get out of this, I mean I can't back out of a dare because I'm not any chicken shit and I AM going to win that bet between Cartman and I yet I'm wearing really embarrassing boxers. This means one thing, I have to do it. Fuck it I mean my ass is hot enough to pull of the boxers anyways. Standing up, I begin to strip off my clothes. This is just as embarrassing considering I have everybody's eyes on me; including Cartman's. Ohmyfrickinggosh Cartman is watching me strip, intently watching me strip. This may be one of the awesomest moments ever; maybe I actually need to thank Bebe. As I unzip my pants Ken whistles and Stan throws some change at me, which I delightfully throw back with a bit more force than he did, that douchebag I call my best friend needs to go back to fucking his girlfriend. Everybody begins laughing when they see my boxers, Dammit Ike, I love you but did you really need to get me boxers with a bunch of lollipops saying "Sweet stuff".

"Oh Ky, so your stuff is sweet?"

"Why are you staring down there so much Ken? Like what you see?" I wink at him before giving my hips a little wiggle and sitting back down.

"Ken, truth or dare?" Smiling wickedly, I know the whole just boxers' thing wasn't Bebe's idea. Paybacks a bitch.

"Dare, Ky. Bring it on." He smiles unknowingly. Silly, silly Ken- I almost feel bad.

"I dare you to lock lips with Bebe." Haha, at his face. It's not that Ken hates Bebe or anything, it's just she's one of the few people who could put the list of people Ken has slept with to shame. She's possibly a bigger whore than ken and that pisses him off, but also has made him grow some sort of fucked up, twisted respect for her. Which has turned into an almost friendship thing. So he refuses to do her for that reason, and he doesn't just want to be a person on a list. See when ken fucks someone, it's just another person to him BUT to the other person it's one of the few or the first person they've slept with. So Ken doesn't want to be on the opposite end.

"Dude, you're a dick." He argues. Laughing, I gesture towards my body and smile. He waits for me to stop him; he actually waits for anyone to stop him. But he does eventually; he leans down towards Bebe and gives her the quickest kiss I've ever seen. Regardless of this fact- Everybody whistles and makes suggestive noises their way. His face makes me laugh harder than ever. It's redder than any tomato on this Earth. He growls and returns back to his spot- deep in thought.

Suddenly, a smile more shit eating and wicked then the cat in Alice in Wonderland spreads on his face.

'Kyle," He controls an upcoming laughs and then continues, "Truth or dare."

Okay now he's got me curious dammit, "Dare."

He snorts, "I dare you to kiss, when I say kiss I mean full on longer than a couple seconds, lip to lip kiss with-"He pauses for dramatic effect, which I can only handle for a couple seconds,

"With who!"

"Fatass." The thought of this happening made half the people including my Best Friend burst into laughter. There was a quick moment of shock on Cartman's face before it registered into embarrassment, and he simply shrunk down- his face possibly the reddest of the night.

I can't even. My brain cannot contemplate my feeling. A part of me is totally a hundred percent; fangirling. Fangirling over the fact that thought had made him blush and oh my god he's looks fucking adorable when he blushes, but The other side of me is completely terrified. What if it's the worst possible kiss in the World and then I still have feeling for him but not physical feeling for him and I'm caught with these weird ass feeling or worse what if he-

"I'm not kissing the Jew." Cartman declares- his face straight and void of emotion. Ugh, asshole!

"What's so wrong with kissing Ky, Tubby?" Ken questions, with that damn pretty boy smirk on his face. Even though he's pissing me off, I turn to face Cartman just like everyone else. He better have a damn good reason as to why he doesn't want to kiss me.

"Because. . ."

"Because why?" Interjecting, I glare. God he is so annoying.

"Because of Jew Germs." He speaks, with the most honesty he has had in his voice in a while.

Oh Godammit. If I was Stan I'd be pinching my noise and shaking my head right now, because his stupidity literally irks me and gives me a headache, wondering why I like him for the fiftieth time tonight. But since I'm Kyle, the uptight Jew with an anger problem, and currently intoxicated I'm going to do the exact fucking opposite.

Crawling across the circle to where Cartman is sitting, I scotch close next to him and rest my head on his shoulder; to which he flinches and removes my head from his shoulder; dusting it off. He's such a drama queen.

"Oh, so 'lil ole Cartman is _**afraid **_of cootie?"

"No!" he yells, "I just- just don't want your god damn Jew germs all over me! It's gross, and you'll probably spray your ginger rat magic and steal my soul not to mention the jersey side will come out and you'll start choking the shit out of me and-"

Grabbing his shirt collar, I bring his face inches away from mine. His face reddens even more and I laugh.

"Stop being a pussy." Smirking, I grip tighter on the collar of his shirt and look straight into his eyes. They gleam with anger for a couple seconds, but a quick flash of playfulness tells me he's up to no good; and as I feel his hands tighten around my collar and drag me practically into his lap I realize he isn't. He's playing the exact same game as me, and damn is he looking sexy while doing it.

"Stop calling me a pussy." His voice-whispers angrily; pulling my face so close to his I can smell his breath hit me and his deviant eyes sparkle more than ever. Everything and everybody else has faded into the background, like we're the only people in this room. Everything is silent and on mute, it's just me. And Cartman.

"Then stop being one," I barely whisper, my mouth smiling but my eyes glaring. Inching my mouth as close as possible to his without touching I smile wider, he'll never know how long I've been waiting for this moment,

"And kiss me." Those words. His mouth. Slamming into mine. It was like explosives have been set off into my body, sending sparkles throughout it and setting it alive. It was like fire spread throughout my body but at the same time so did ice. Pressing my mouth back towards his, I mustered all the passion I ever had in my body. I hope he feels the same way I do. It's like everything's melted and gone away, except us two. His hand run through my hair and grabs a handful, holding tightly onto the red locks. His tongue fights, and I eventually allow it to slips into my mouth as-

And then suddenly, somebody's hands slip around my waist and pull me away from Cartman and his soft lips. Who is this douchebag that just ruined my first official kiss- make out thing?

"Okay Ky, you're obviously way too drunk and have no idea what you're doing." Stan states sickly, dragging me into the kitchen. Turning around to look at his face I burst into laughter. He looks like he has seen a fucking ghost raping Token or some crazy shit like that.

"Am not." I reply, rolling my eyes over-dramatically. I really don't feel that drunk, but maybe I am. Either fucking way I don't see why it's any of Stan's damn business.

"Oh yeah, that's why you just made out with fucking Cartman, in front of fucking everyone. You're cut off for the rest of the night." Stan smirks, while giving me a quick look up and down and throwing me my jeans. If I wasn't wasted I would've of accused him of being a giant douche head . . . actually that's what being drunk IS for.

"I don't need a babysitter Stan, and I sure as hell am not going to be told what to do over something as petty as drinking. It's my choice and when I want to stop drinking I will. You always need to tell me to stop being so uptight well-"grabbing the tequila bottle and a plastic cup I smile wickedly, "That's what I'm doing." Smirking at his dumbfounded face I begin to walk away,  
>"I'll do a shot for you while you and Wendy are pre-planning your guy's marriage theme."<p>

He yells something incoherent, and it sounds like it's out of anger, but right now I don't really give a fuck. Everybody always says to let loose, and I've already made an ass of myself so fuck it.

~~~ After half an hour so of truth and dare that would be pointless to the plot we now come to find a very drunken Kyle~~~

" Guy's I'm bored, this's game dumb." Haha, fuck proper English I'm drunk! Drinking the majority of the tequila bottle was a very, very retarded idea. Or maybe it was the best idea ever, I really do not know and I don't want to care right now.

"I agree with Kyle! We should do something else, oh how bout that one game?" Bebe shrieks in my ear.

"Yeah! What game?"

"You know the one where somebody says something they've done like 'I'm still a virgin' and if the statement is true to you, than you take a shot- but if it isn't than you don't."

"What? My brain isn't configuring words right now." Laughing I fall back into the soft ground. It really isn't, I mean I have a vague understanding of what she said but at the same time I have no idea why she's talking about-

"What does the game even have to do with virgins?" Questioning, I look up at her. She begins laughing, than grabs my hand to help me sit up straight. My mind wants to sit up, but my body refuses to- so I just lie back down and continue laughing at nothing. Suddenly, I feel someone grabbed the tequila bottle from my hand.

"Kay Ky, you're officially wasted. SO you're officially cut off." Ken says, than chugs the last of the bitter liquid from the bottle. Dickhole!

"Whyyyy?" Over elongating my one word sentence, makes me feel like Cartman Haha.

"Because you can barely sit up straight Jesus Ky, why'd you go straight for the tequila? Tequila makes babies."

"It's okay, I'm gay! And I have no pussy so it okay! I think. . . Can I still get pregnant?" Jesus, have I lost all basic knowledge?

"Okay Ky, way too drunk. Time to go home and get some sleep. I'll have Cartman walk you."

I really want him to walk me home but after the whole kiss make out thing I don't want people to think but actually fuck people I don't give a shit what they think as long as it doesn't get back to my parents because no matter how pathetic they may be they still scare me to death when they get mad which is kind of pathetic and does alcohol increase sexual hormones cause I really, really want to do more than just walk home with Cartman and damn it. Calm your dick Kyle.

" Kay, but I don't need a babysitter soo . . ." Giving him an awkward- way too long bear hug I squeeze him as tight as possible, " bye Ken, thanks for showing me how to have a good party time, I think I should drink more at these things."

"No problem Ky, Now if you'd excuse me, I have a certain red haired girl to go and fuck."

Making a small face of disgust I find my way to the front door and inhale the sweet fresh mountain air, so much different and better than the stuffy alcohol scented air in there. Ew, why does Ken have to be so vulgar? The thought of him and Red getting it on makes me feel sick to the stomach. . . Or maybe it's just the tequila. Grasping my stomach I look around. Do I go left or right to get home? I think. . . Left!

As I begin walking home, my mind wanders off to Cartman and the kiss slash make out thing we shared. My god, there has to be something there, I mean I have to explore that feeling right? Was it just because I was drunk- or was it something real? Damn it, I need to kiss him again. Turning at the sight of size eleven footsteps I see the one person I was just thinking of, Cartman. Thank Moses the air has magically made me feel more sober and like myself, so I don't do anything retarded.

"Why are you following me fatass?"

"Cause you're way to drunk and if nobody's with you, you'll probably end up fucking passing out in the middle of the road and dying like a dumbass."

It was silent for a while after that. Not the awkward kind of silence that you feel the need to force conversation only making it more awkward, but the good kind of silence the silence you can be comfortable with around someone who you don't feel the need to talk when your together in a good type of way. Trying to keep the contents of my stomach down, I go back to tonight when I kissed him. I wonder if he felt what I felt, I mean he had to! It sounds cheesy and totally typical but it was like this deep fuzzy feeling throughout me and fireworks and crackles and spiciness. I mean come on, how many people do you feel spiciness with? Well, I don't think he's against anyways, I mean knowing Cartman if somebody did something like that to happen without consent Cartman would punch them so hard in the fucking face- actually no Cartman has punched Butters in the face because he kissed him during a dare. So he must have liked it but I don't think I came off to strong.

"You're a really great singer."

"Hardy hare, don't remind me. I'm never going live that down. What song did I even sing?"

You sung your own god damn lyrics to the beat of the Spice Girls." Oh that complete ass!

"Please like you know the lyrics! I just gave the song my own god damn finesse!"

"Please I'd bet you know nothing about baby spice for god's sake, and you totally jewed the song to an extreme. So if you were going for a sort of Barbra Streisand finesse to the song than yeah, you gave it finesse!" he yells, smirking like it's the greatest insult ever. This stupid douche, does he even know how fucking famous Barbra Streisand is and how that is a fucking compliment to me?

"Um, douche that's not offensive considering Barbra Streisand was like- one of the biggest divas ever. And please! I've read baby spices bio more than once!"

"Haha, fag." He snorts, with that devilish smile plastered on his face.

"Right back at ya' asshole, fucking defending Baby-spice, Jesus."

"That's because baby-spic was the awesomest out of all the spice girls!"

"Are you serious! That's such bull!" And it is! We all know Allspice was far superior to Baby Spice and every other Spice girls.

"No, I'm totally not being serious, I'm just lying about that, ya know. Cause-

We're here." Cartman suddenly interjects, stopping in front of my house.

"Oh yeah, "Looking at the driveway I see the reason I didn't notice being the big ass truck in the driveway- "Fuck!" Slamming my foot into the rim of the truck, I let out an exasperated cry- I know whose car this is.

"What Jew?"

"I can't fog home right now."

"Why the fuck not Jew?"

"Because, "Kicking at his stupid fucking truck again I release some of my anger, "My father's here."

Cartman raises an eyebrow, "Yeah and so?"

" so he only comes over now awadays to go on a bitch fit and try starting another fucking war with my Mother, and he'll see my walk in and confront me and-"

"Check your wallet to make sure you didn't spend that fifty bucks he gave you three months ago?" he snorts, cracking up at his lame ass drunken Jewish jokes he's been pulling out of his ass.

"Hahaha no He'll just scream at me like always and for no reason, then he'll just look at me and see I'm drunk than I'll be in the deepest of shit! Fuck!" yelling at nobody and nothing in particular, Cartman walks around so we are face to face. He better not say anything stupid or else I'll smash his face in right now. Dammit it dad why do you get my emotions to run so high?

"DO you want to stay with me tonight Jew?"

Wait, what? Wait hold up. . . Is Cartman doing me a favor right now?

"Uum . . . If you don't mind. I mean I'll like- pay you or something. . ."

"Shut up you dumb Jew you don't need to pay me. . . you'll just DOUBLE owe me, " he begins walking towards the direction of his house, until he sees I'm not following and turns around smirking at me, " You coming or not Jew?"

'Yeah, yeah." Holy fuck baby tits, I'm spending the night at Cartman's house.

Nobody knows how long I've wanted to say that.

Authors Note~~

Read and review. 3

Sorry I've been so busy over Winter break and such, and I got extremely sick too so. :c Haha, the result of having almost a 5,000 word chapter is you forget half of what you put in it, so please if you see something I can fix don't NOT feel the need to point it out. :3 Um, it's three in the morning. I've spent my whole night procrastinating on Tumblr, Haha. Have you guys read the "wtffanfiction" tumblr? I can't even, go look it up. Now. Anyways, oh god guys the next chapter is so adorable oh gods I love it you guys are going to love it.

~Madi

P.s. This story is written on its own timeline, so it's hasn't been Christmas yet. :3

P.s.s Happy Late Holidays everyone!


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